“None at all,” Dane deadpanned, not being a talented actor at all.
Tracy shook her head. “It was very tragic.”
Before I had the chance to press her for more information, a loud gasp had us all turning. A squeal came from the far right of the tour beside the largest headstone.
“He’s proposing!” someone yelled, like we didn’t all have eyeballs to realize what a man on one knee meant.
He pulled out a ring box, and the woman with him covered her mouth with her hand. His girlfriend—soon to be fiancée—had tears running down her face as she nodded.
Tracy moved closer to the couple. Her spooky lantern cast weird shadows in the cemetery. “They say love is eternal, especially here in Charleston. I’m sure even the spirits are clapping.”
Everyone in the group took that as their cue, and a chorus of applause broke out. One woman had her phone out. The college-age kid behind her took a selfie with the couple in the background. People were weird.
“A haunted ghost tour. Really?” Dane whispered. He looked on at the couple as if he’d just eaten something gross.
I tapped him on the arm with the back of my hand. “It’s cute.”
“You’re so weird,” he said. “Next you’ll tell me cemetery proposals are trending.”
“Say whatever you want, but this still isn’t the weirdest thing to happen to us in Charleston this trip.”
Dane flipped his head from one side to the other in thought and agreement.
Tracy cleared her throat loudly to recapture our group’s attention. “Now, let’s get our spotlight back on our local ghosts before they get too jealous.”
I barely heard the next story as she led us from the cemetery. My mind kept circling over the key facts of the case. William was dead. But was it jealousy over a highly regarded position at Boone Hall, ghosts, or something more sinister?
“We need to move up the food chain,” I said to Dane as we found our spot at the back of the group.
A tall person, he had to be over six-foot-tall, walked out from between two buildings to our left. I watched him, something in my gut saying I’d been here before.
“Dane,” I whispered, getting his attention. The kid in the hoodie turned about-face and walked away from us. “He’s a suspect.”
“What?” Dane yelled, but I’d already started for the person.
He glanced back, saw me, and took off in a run.
Damn it.
10
The hooded figure bolted down the street, his legs pumping as I raced after him. Why would he run?
“Dane!” I screamed when I didn’t see him beside me.
My coat flapped in the wind as my feet hit the pavement. Dane caught up quickly until he was right beside me.
“Go. Move faster,” I panted out between steps. My lungs were already beginning to hurt, but we weren’t going to lose this guy.
We tore down Meeting Street, weaving through the stunned tourists out on a late-night walk. The hooded suspect clipped a trash can. He grabbed the edge and sent it spinning in our direction.
Who was this person?
The trash can hit the street and rolled across it before we passed it.
Dane’s stride put him a few steps ahead of me. “Who is this dude?”
“Run faster!” I pumped my arms harder trying to keep up with him.
